


Christmas One-Shot

by Crooked_Dreamer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Cuddling, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hogwarts Sixth Year, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I mean really it's Ginny's fifth year but as far as the timeline of the series goes, One Shot, Room of Requirement, but it’s just a short thing with no plot, i feel like there’s a line depending on how you write it, if you’re looking for something smutty tho this probably isn’t for you, im never sure, is kissing smut?, its not really a one shot, this is a lot of tags lmao, this maybe crosses it so I’ll tag it to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21970270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crooked_Dreamer/pseuds/Crooked_Dreamer
Summary: Just some fluffy Draco/Ginny at Hogwarts on Christmas. Ginny POV. Not part of the Dreamless Sleep fic.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley
Kudos: 35





	Christmas One-Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Someone commented on In Search of Dreamless Sleep that they were hoping for an update for Christmas, but I’ve been feeling poorly and consequently I’m not quite ready with that next chapter yet. So to make up for it, I thought I’d write something quick and fluffy anyway to give you all a break from the angst :) This doesn’t fit in with that fic, but it does sort of allude to a world with the same premise for their relationship. 
> 
> Happy Holidays!

Christmas morning dawned slowly on a sleeping Hogwarts. It was the sort of dawn that crept up unobtrusively, without much fanfare, until suddenly it realized that the faintly glowing pre-dawn mists had all but faded away and it was well past time for the sun to be shining through the windows of Gryffindor Tower and through the gaps in the bed hangings for the apparent sole purpose of rousing Ginny Weasley from the best sleep she’d had in three weeks.

Ginny groaned and rolled over, burying her face in her pillow. It was no use trying to get back to sleep. She’d never been any good at recovering from having woken up. She burrowed into her blankets for a few minutes more anyway, before finally sitting up and pulling open her hangings. 

The room was empty. She was the only fifth year Gryffindor girl who had stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas, a fact which cheered her up slightly. She appreciated the rare occasion of some time to herself. 

There were a few parcels at the end of her bed, balanced on top of her trunk, which was only mostly closed over the mess of her belongings. The largest was from her mum, containing a generous portion of fudge and the traditional Christmas jumper, this year in navy blue. Ginny changed into it immediately. The twins had sent her a number of sweets; the number was “far too many”, and the box was wrapped in a bright foil that magically resisted being torn off until Ginny had threatened it with her pocket knife. She made a mental note to carefully check that all of the candies were from reputable sources and untampered with. There was a letter from Bill promising to take her to the first Harpies match of the season over the spring holiday, and a small, knobby sort of package from Charlie that Ginny set aside upon noticing a crisply folded piece of parchment addressed in handwriting she didn’t recognize to a nickname she did. Only one person had ever called her ‘Weaselette’ and gotten away with it.

The note was sealed with a small spot of green wax, and read only “Meet me in the usual place”.

Ginny rolled her eyes. It was just like him not to put any particular time. Someday, Ginny thought as she slipped into her shoes, he was going to be wrong in his assumptions about her habits or schedule or availability, and be left waiting somewhere because he hadn’t given Ginny an opportunity to correct him. Ginny hoped it would be cold and raining and mildly embarrassing. She tucked the slab of fudge under her arm on her way out the door. 

***

“I was starting to wonder if you brushed your teeth with sleeping draught this morning,” Draco drawled. He was dressed in casual robes and leaning against one of the stalls with an air of practiced carelessness. Ginny smirked, letting the door of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom swing shut behind her.

“How long have you been waiting?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Not long.” Ginny raised an eyebrow. “I woke up at seven.”

“Is waking up three hours earlier than any reasonable person needs to on not only a school holiday but _Christmas_ a Slytherin thing, a Malfoy thing, or particular to you?”

“I would ask the same about your sleeping habits, but I have a feeling-“

“All three,” said Ginny. “The twins are the early risers in the family, actually, if you can believe it. They’ll deny it though. Apparently being morning people would be bad for their image. And you’re not allowed to tease me, I brought fudge.”

“In that case, allow me to beg forgiveness,” said Draco. 

“I’ll have to think about it,” said Ginny, crossing the room to Draco, who wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face into her hair. “Mm. You’re forgiven,” she said, leaning into his chest. 

“I still think it’s weird that you’re wearing pajamas out into the castle,” he said.

“And I think it’s weird that you’re wearing robes on, again, a _holiday_ ,” said Ginny, “but I’m still going to share my fudge.”

“Not here, though,” said Draco, kissing the top of her head and pulling away. 

“Oh?”

“You don’t think it’s a little unsanitary?” He asked innocently.

“I think you have something planned that’s unrelated to the sanitation of Myrtle’s bathroom,” said Ginny. “Do I finally get to see the holiest of the holy, Slytherin common room?”

“In your dreams, maybe,” said Draco. “Come on.” He pushed open the door expectantly, but Ginny held back.

“You’re not worried someone will see us?”

“That wouldn’t have been an issue if you’d woken up at a reasonable hour,” said Draco, “but no. We’re keeping off the main path.”

Ginny followed him into the corridor. “I feel obligated to point out the contradiction between the implication that most people would’ve been asleep earlier in the morning than now, and your calling it a ‘reasonable hour’.”

“Do you?” Said Draco, noncommittally.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll make a note of it.”

True to his word, they made their way up several floors through mostly side corridors and hidden passages, one of which Ginny didn’t even recognize. 

“I’m impressed,” she said, as Draco slid aside the portrait at the end of the tunnel and dropped a few feet to the floor of the corridor, hiding a faint smile. “Are you laughing at me?”

“No,” he lied. She ignored the hand he offered her and hopped down from the portrait hole. “If I’d known you could be courted with castle navigation abilities, our little rendezvous’ would’ve been a lot more mobile.” He replaced the painting.

“Oh, is that what this is? You’re trying to seduce me?”

“Yes,” said Draco, pointedly taking her hand. “And you’re making it very difficult.”

“That’s my specialty.”

He turned down a corridor that Ginny instantly recognized. She had become intimately familiar with this part of the seventh floor during Umbridge’s administration. Draco stopped walking and turned to her.

“Close your eyes,” he said. If he hadn’t been impossibly arrogant by nature, Ginny would’ve said that he looked almost nervous. She closed her eyes. She heard Draco pacing up and down the corridor, and then a faint popping sound, and his hands were on her shoulders to guide her.

“There’s a step up- just there- okay,” he said, and Ginny heard him close the door behind them. “Open.”

Ginny had only ever seen the Room of Requirement as one of the expansive training rooms Harry and Ron and Hermione had conjured up for DA meetings. It was much smaller now, perhaps half as big as her dormitory, and lit by a crackling fire in a large, ornate fireplace. The walls were circular and richly paneled, with heavy green drapes covering all but one of the windows, which looked out over the castle grounds towards the forest. It was snowing. 

The centerpiece of the room was a low couch facing the fire. Despite the fine pattern of the covering, it didn’t quite match the elegance of the rest of the decor; its cushions were thick, and well-worn, and the squashy throw pillows and knit blanket clashed with the rug. It offset the austerity of the rest of the room, which might otherwise have felt cold despite the warmth emanating from the fire. The contrasting styles somehow balanced into a cozy, homey effect.

Draco was watching Ginny take it all in. “Do you like it?” He asked.

“It’s perfect,” she said, dropping her packet of fudge over the back of the couch and turning back to him. 

“I just thought, since you couldn’t go home for Christmas, you might want-“

Ginny kissed him. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.” Draco placed his hands on her waist and kissed her back, his mouth moving slowly and deliberately, his lips soft against Ginny’s chapped ones. 

“It’s more comfortable than the bathroom floor, anyway,” he said, without moving away. His eyes were half-closed, and his lips brushed hers when he spoke. “And the Slytherin common room,” he added as an afterthought. Ginny kissed him again, and felt him tighten his hold on her waist, one arm wrapped all the way across her back, holding her to him, his fingers splayed against her side, while his other hand moved to support the back of her head, brushing the wisps of hair at the back of her neck that had escaped her loose knot. He took a step forward, pressing Ginny back until she felt the edge of the couch against her back. She removed one hand from his shoulders and found the edge of his robes, working it free from where their bodies were pressed together and moving on to the shirt he wore underneath, untucking it from the waistband of his trousers and slipping her hand up to the bare skin of his torso. 

Draco yelped and jumped backwards. “How are your hands still so _cold_?” He demanded, tossing his outer robes into the windowsill but tucking his shirt firmly back in as Ginny cackled.

“I have a gift,” she said, waggling her fingers in his direction.

“You have something.” 

“Come on, come back.” Ginny hoisted herself up onto the back of the couch, tipping backwards to flop across its seat. It was just as cozy as it looked.

“You are a cruel, cruel witch,” said Draco, nevertheless walking around the couch to join her. Ginny burrowed into his arms almost before he was seated. 

“I also have fudge,” she reminded him.

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” she said, beginning to sit up. She was restrained immediately by Draco’s arms around her waist.

“Where exactly do you think you’re going?”

“To eat my fudge, of course.”

“I would call your bluff, but I’ve seen your family eat.”

“Mmhm,” said Ginny, making for the edge of Draco’s shirt again. He released his hold on her waist and, after a brief struggle, trapped both of her hands between his own. 

“Oh, no you don’t.” 

“I’m not going to do anything!”

“Like hell you aren’t.”

“You’re right, you got me, I surrender,” she said, leaning in.

“Very convincing,” said Draco, before she pressed her mouth to his. After a moment, his grip loosened, and Ginny’s hands wriggled from Draco’s grasp and found their way to bare skin without breaking the kiss. Draco smirked against her mouth. “Too late. You’re warm now,” he said between breaths, his own hands sliding up under the hem of Ginny’s jumper to hold her waist. He kissed her again.

“Well played,” said Ginny, settling back against his chest. 

“Thank you.” Draco adjusted his arms around her, one hand still resting on Ginny’s bare stomach, under her new jumper. “I believe fudge was mentioned?”

“It was indeed,” said Ginny. She leaned out to reach the packet on the rug, and Draco’s hand at her waist tightened automatically to prevent her from leaning too far off the couch. Something in Ginny’s chest stirred in response. “Happy Christmas,” she said, tearing open a corner of the package and offering him a piece. Draco opened his mouth. “You’re an infant,” said Ginny. Draco tightened his arms around her.

“I don’t have a free hand.”

“Point taken.” She gave him the fudge, settling back against his chest to eat her own piece. Draco made an unintelligible sound. “Yes?” She felt him swallow.

“I would like to formally rescind, and apologize for, every rude thing I ever said or thought about your mother before this moment,” he informed her, finding a free hand with which to take a second piece of fudge.

“I would’ve hoped you’d done that already,” said Ginny.

“Not _formally_ ,” said Draco, through a mouthful of chocolate. 

Ginny grinned. “That good?”

“Yes,” said Draco. 

“See, there’s no need to wake up early when there’s fudge for breakfast.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It is well past lunchtime.”

“Maybe for you.”

“Yes, because I ate breakfast. In the morning. When I woke up.”

Ginny shrugged. “More fudge for me, then.”

“That’s what you think.” Draco twisted to kiss her, removing several pieces of fudge from the packet while Ginny was otherwise occupied. 

“Oh, how thoughtful,” said Ginny, plucking one of the pieces from Draco’s hand. “Thanks.”

The fudge was eventually set aside again, after both Ginny and Draco finally admitted that it was perhaps too sweet after all to eat very much of in one sitting. 

“I still don’t think that means there’s any such thing as too much,” said Ginny, leaning over Draco to take one last piece from the packet on the rug.

“No, of course not,” said Draco. Ginny bit the fudge in half, and he accepted the other piece.

“It just means we were underprepared.”

“Milk would have helped,” Draco agreed.

“Next time.” Ginny snuggled into Draco’s chest, both of them sinking a little further into the cushions. They had shifted gradually down the couch, and now lay entirely horizontal, the couch just long enough to accommodate this. Ginny’s legs were wrapped around one of Draco’s, and she could feel his breath in her hair, slow and steady, drowsy with the warmth of the fire and the weight of the fudge. Draco’s thumb stroked a slow crescent in Ginny’s stomach, sending a soft tingling out from where his hand touched her skin.

“Next time?”

“Well, we have the fudge. And the room. And nothing better to do.”

“I can think of one thing better,” said Draco. Ginny could feel his heartbeat through his chest, thumping gently against the side of her head. Her arm, draped across him, followed the rise and fall of his stomach with each breath. His shirt had ridden up throughout their slow descent from sitting upright, and his skin was still warmer than her fingers, but not by much.

“What is it?”

“Just this,” he said, still except for the hand on her side.

“Mmm,” agreed Ginny.

The sun was slowly setting through the uncovered window, casting the room in pale gold as the fire crackled into embers without lessening in warmth. Draco, with his free hand, had carefully pulled free the knitted blanket, which had sunk into the crevice between the seat and the back of the couch, and spread it across the two of them. “Probably almost time for dinner soon,” he said softly. Ginny could almost still see the fire licking against the coals through the insides of her eyelids.

“Almost,” she said. “We should go, then.”

“You should eat at least one real meal today.”

“Mmhmm.”

Draco pressed his lips gently to the top of Ginny’s head, brushing a few strands of her hair out of her face with his fingers. He could feel the even rise and fall of her chest against his own; each exhale brushed across his collarbone. The bare skin of her stomach was soft under his hand. In the golden light of the dying fire, her hair shone like embers spun into silk thread. Taking care not to wake her, Draco held her even closer, allowing himself to believe, finally, that this was real. 

“Goodnight, Ginny,” he whispered, letting his own eyes slip closed. “Merry Christmas.”


End file.
